


The Bravado of the Junkie Christ

by KnownAsEmrys



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Apocalypse, But No Nick Or Troy/Others, M/M, More Tags To Be Added As My Two Working Braincells Squeeze Out The Entire Plot, Nick Flirts A Lot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnownAsEmrys/pseuds/KnownAsEmrys
Summary: Two years after the rise of Zombies, Nick is chosen to test an experimental vaccine that seems to be the cure to the virus. Troy is assigned to get him to a lab in Atlanta for further testing.So.Nick is basically Murphy from Z Nation but you know not a fucking douche that I hate to love and love to hate.





	The Bravado of the Junkie Christ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily inspired by Murphy from Z Nation's Storyline though I haven't finished the show so only up to a point really...I mean I'm just picking and choosing really... Though Im not giving Nick the ugly zombie demon baby that can apparently tear off its own umbilical cord for sure. My mind couldn't take it.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like this first chapter!

 

> **Los Angeles, California, Outpost 136; Year 02 AZ**

 

Nick stares around the small clinic, wondering if this vaccine will work or kill him instantly like all the other prisoners dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to be here.

Unfortunately, with the death of Madame President came the end of prisoner's rights and protection from involuntary human testing. It's not like it really mattered anyway - prisoners had always been experimented on, but now that zombies were running rampant in the streets it was actively encouraged by what was left of the public. 

Anything to save the human race it seems. 

The door opens and in steps a female Doctor. She's a middle-aged blonde with a giant needle in her hand. 

"Hello, Inmate four five eight seven," she greets. 

Nick snorts. "Didn't even bother to learn my name? That's _cold,_ Doc."

"You're the thirty-third inmate I've seen this month." She tells him with a shrug.

"So I'm thirty-third in line to die then." It's not such a bad way to go when the alternatives are being zombie chow or slowly starving to death in his cell. 

"Potentially." No shame, no compassion as she takes his arm and searches for a vein in his left arm. 

"Assuming this doesn't kill me instantly, how are we going to know if it works?" Nick asks. 

She doesn't answer as she injects him with the vaccine and he braces himself for death as it floods his veins. 

A full minute ticks by and nothing happens. 

The Doctor smiles. "Still breathing... _Good._ " She goes over and opens the door. "Otto, Trimbol, you’re up!" 

Nick watches the doorway curiously - suspicious of the Doctor backing away rapidly. A few seconds later a jumpsuit wearing zombie with a dog pole catcher around it's neck is shoved into the room by a soldier.

Nick jumps to his feet, but he can't go far because he's handcuffed to the table. Not that it matters because another soldier slips in and places himself behind Nick to hold him still, lifting Nick's shirt and exposing his stomach. 

Nick struggles as hard as he can and the man holding him laughs, "Think of this as a mercy," he says into Nick's ear. "I guarantee you won't find any outside of this room."

The other soldier forces the zombie to bite into Nick's side - causing him to cry out in pain especially as it gets forcefully yanked away and rips away a small chunk of his skin. 

Nick thrashes wildly against the man holding him captive - not caring about the pain in his side or the pain the cuff brings - only about getting away. 

"Easy, _easy_ now." The solider says in a faux soothing voice. "In case you haven't noticed - you’re _not_ changing."

Nick slowly stops moving when he realizes that the man is right. His side fucking _hurts_ , but he doesn't feel sick or like death is imminent. He feels perfectly normally. 

The Doctor smiles and grabs a clipboard off the wall that she quickly skims before saying, "Congratulations, Nicholas Clark! You might just be the savior of humanity!"

Nick stares at her in disbelief. 

She nods to the soldier in charge of the zombie. "Trimbol, you’re dismissed," then to the one still holding Nick says, "I think you can let go now, Troy."

 _Troy_ lets go of Nick, slipping out from behind him. "Need anything else, Doc?"

"Wait here while I tend to the patient. I'll need you to take him to quarantine when I'm done."

The soldier nods and goes to stand in the corner while the other one leaves. 

Nick sinks back onto the table in shock. The vaccine _didn't_ kill him instantly, he was _bitten_ and he didn't _turn_. All of these were facts he didn't know how to deal with. He’d only heard about the inmates the injections killed, never about anyone surviving them - never a word about any bite marks on the bodies - but then again maybe that was simply because of the placement of the bites. 

The Doctor goes to a nearby cabinet and pulls out everything she needs to tend to his wound before coming over to him. "Lift your shirt please." 

Nick does. "What's your name?" Nick asks her as she starts cleaning the wound on his side. 

"June Taylor," She answers. "Nice to meet you."

Nick just hums and remains quiet. He can't say the same. 

This was total  _bullshit_. Out of everyone, why did _Nick_ have to be the one to survive his visit to the clinic? He didn't want to be the savior of humanity. He just wanted to OD quietly in his cell before the zombies inevitably overtook this outpost. 

 _Now_ he's probably going to become a fucking lab rat for the sake of the human race. 

After Naomi's bandaged the bite, Troy takes him to quarantine - a small sterile room with nothing in it besides a bed and a light on the ceiling. 

"What happens next?" He asks, turning to face Troy. 

Troy shrugs as he takes off Nick's handcuffs. "Probably fly you to Atlanta in the morning for further testing."

Nick frowns. 

Troy eyes him curiously. "Not psyched to potentially cure the zombie virus, Clark?"

"Not psyched to become a lab rat."

Troy nods in understanding. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about what's flowing through my veins. You're not the first person that didn't turn instantly from the vaccine. I've seen at least four other people make it this far only to turn overnight."

Nick's frown deepens. That was far from comforting. 

"See you in the morning -  _if_ you live that is," Troy says. 

Nick nods.

 _Asshole,_ he thinks. 

He watches Troy leave, hearing the click of a lock after the door shuts. He goes to sit on the bed, rubs his face with both of his hands, and sighs deeply.

After being thrown in prison and watching the apocalypse happen live on the news, he was so sure his life couldn't get any worse. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

He knows he could try to escape or even kill himself, but then what kind of person would that make him? He could potentially prevent anyone else from ever becoming a flesh-eating monster and with his family still presumably out there somewhere he doesn't think it would be fair to blow this opportunity just because he doesn't want to be poked and prodded. 

Besides, it's not like his life matters. Not after what happened to Gloria. Why not throw away what's left of it for the greater good?

 

* * *

 

Outpost 136 was considered a priority facility because it was set up to protect the California State Prison - one of the few testing sites still in operation. Troy had felt honored to be assigned here, but not because of the nobility of trying to save the human race.

 _No_.

He liked being here because he got to _participate_ in the experiments, study the virus alongside the Doctors and no one batted an eye when he inspected the bodies or took extensive notes.  

It was the perfect place for him and his scientific curiosity. 

Troy reports to Staff Sergeant Moore's office as soon as he's locked the test subject in quarantine. He wonders if this one will prove to be the cure or if he'll turn before the night is over - either way he'll be going to Atlanta to study the effects of the vaccine on the human body. 

He debriefs the Staff Sergeant and gets his orders to escort the test subject with Coop and Galvez in the morning. He heads to his room after informing the others of their orders and gets in bed, but like it does most nights, sleep alludes him. 

After awhile he gets up, turns on the lamp, grabs his journal and starts writing.

 

> **Test Subject 099**
> 
> **Nicholas Clark, 22, M, 127 LBS**
> 
> **Track marks on both arms, no other discernable scars**
> 
> **Survived initial injection, bitten on right side.**
> 
> **Status: Alive**

Troy taps the eraser of his pencil against the paper as he reads back what he wrote, trying to remember any other pertinent details to add, but that's all he knows for now. He sighs and gets off his bed. He packs his bag for the journey to Atlanta, takes a shower, and goes to check on the test subject. 

The light's still on and he's wide awake too, his back pressed against the wall, staring at nothing. 

Troy goes to the kitchen and grabs an apple, a protein bar, and a bottle of water. He heads back to Nick. 

"Brought you something to eat," Troy announces as he steps into the small room, kicking the door shut behind him. 

Nick eyes him curiously. "It's _normal_ food, right? Like it's not sprayed with some weird chemical to see if the vaccine holds?"

Troy huffs in amusement as he walks over to the bed. "It's regular food," he says, offering the items to Nick. 

Nick takes them, setting the protein bar and water on the bed, but biting into the apple. He sighs happily after he's swallowed. "Thanks _,_ " he says. "I was starving."

Troy nods. "Got to keep you fed if you're gonna get to Atlanta. You're too skinny as it is."

Nick shrugs. "They only feed us once a day in the prison."

"Those track marks suggests there's another reason for it too," Troy remarks, gesturing to his arms. 

Nick takes another bite of his apple. 

"You know that shit'll kill you." Troy tells him. 

Nick swallows. "That's what I was counting on."

Troy eyes him curiously. "You _want_ to die?"

"Not really. I just want to die on my _own_ terms," Nick corrects. "But all the good shit left in the prison gets rationed and I haven't been able to scrounge up enough for one last ride. If it weren't for withdrawal I probably _could've_ by now."

Troy hums.  _Interesting._

In his experience, most people - for _some_ reason - seemed keen to survive the apocalypse. 

"Now, though, I'll never get the chance." Nick says glumly before opening his water and taking a long drink. 

"When was the last time you had anything?" Troy questions. 

"Took half a vicodin before lights out."

Troy makes a mental note to pack some opiates. They'll have to make a some pit stops on their way to Atlanta and it'll be much easier to keep Nick safe if he's high than if he's in withdrawal. 

"Eat up," Troy tells him. "I'll be back to get you in a couple hours so try to get some rest."

Nick nods. 

He’s almost out of the room when Nick asks, "What's it like out there?"

Troy looks over his shoulder at him. He doesn't see a trace of fear in Nick's eyes, only genuine curiosity - and it intrigues him even more. Maybe this one wouldn't be as boring as the others.  "If things go like they _should,_  you'll never have to find out."

Nick tilts his head in acknowledgement and Troy leaves him. He makes a quick stop to get enough opiates for the flight to Atlanta and goes back to his room, grabbing his journal again. He sits on his bed and adds a few more notes.

 

> **Test Subject 099**
> 
> **Nicholas Clark, 22, M, 127 LBS**
> 
> **Track marks on both arms, no other discernable scars**
> 
> **Survived initial injection, bitten on right side.**
> 
> **Status: Alive**
> 
> **Flight risk: Minimal. Cooperation in exchange for opiates possible.**
> 
> **Does not fear death - suicidal tendencies. Must keep careful track of opiate intake.**  

Troy closes his journal and stuffs it in his bag. The information was just as much for him as it was for the others in his unit. The more they all know about their charge, the easier it will be to keep him safe, and notice any peculiar side effects of the vaccine. 

Troy lays down and this time he's able to fall asleep. 

 

* * *

 

Nick fidgets nervously as he stares at the helicopter currently being fueled up a few feet away. He’s never flown before and though he's never particularly been scared of heights he doesn't know how he'll handle it. 

Troy comes to stand in front of him. "We take off in about twenty minutes."

Nick nods, twitching slightly. He settles his hand over where he was bitten. It still hurts, and though he was given a fresh bandage, and clean clothes, he wasn't given anything for the pain. 

"Ever flown before?" Troy questions. 

Nick shakes his head. "Never even been outside of California."

"Nervous?"

"A little."

Troy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills. He opens it, takes out two pills, closes it and stuffs it back in his pocket. "Say ah," he instructs. 

Nick does, recognizing the pills as oxy and Troy places them on his tongue. He closes his mouth and swallows, taken by surprise when Troy grabs his jaw and forces his mouth open, ordering him to lift his tongue. It feels very invasive, but Nick can't really do much about it. 

Troy nods in satisfaction when he finally let's go and crouches down to fiddle with the bag he left at Nick's feet as he says, "That should help with your nerves and keep you from going into withdrawal."

Nick snorts. "So this is how it's gonna be then? You're gonna keep me doped up the entire trip?"

"Pretty much." Troy answers casually, offering him a bottle of water from his bag. "Though I don't suspect you'll mind too much."

Nick takes it and unscrews the cap as he says, "I _mind_ you checking my mouth after like I'm some stubborn kid refusing to take his medicine."

Troy's gaze slips down to his arm meaningfully. "Can't have you checking out early." 

Nick huffs, and takes a sip of his water. He can't exactly claim he _wouldn't_ after he's already divulged his pre-vaccine plan to overdose. 

Troy reaches into his bag again, this time pulling out a sandwich that he offers to Nick.

"Where the hell did you get bread?" Nick questions as he takes it. 

"Perks of being in what's left of the military," Troy answers cryptically. He puts the pill bottle in his bag, zips it, and gets to his feet. 

Nick peels off the saran wrap, parting the bread just enough to recognize bits of steak and melted cheese. He looks up at Troy. "Meat and dairy stopped being served in the prison months ago. All we get now is canned goods or what they grow in the fields."

It doesn't seem like news to Troy. 

"We keep the prison safe so we get first dibs on supply drops." Troy tells him with a shrug. 

"Supply drops from _who?"_ Nick questions. 

"Group of survivalists in Baja. We give them water in exchange for food." 

Before Nick can ask about that, a soldier - a woman this time - comes up to them.

"Otto, the Staff Sergeant would like a word," she says.

Troy gestures to Nick. "Make sure he eats - _slowly_ , and don’t let him have any more of his medicine."

Galvez - according to her name tag - nods, but she doesn't seem pleased to be taking orders from Troy, glaring at his back as he leaves. 

Nick bites into the sandwich, eating slowly despite how hungry he is - despite how his mouth waters from the taste. He knows the effect meat can have on someone after they've gone a long while without it. He guesses Troy knows too.

Galvez watches him curiously as he eats. 

"What?" He asks in between bites. 

"It's just a little surprising that _you_ survived the injection _and_ the bite." She says. "You look like a strong gust of wind could blow you away."

Nick snorts and swallows. "I'm stronger than I look." He may be underweight, but he wasn't _small_ -  standing at six feet exactly, and he could still fight if he needed too. 

She eyes him skeptically, but he doesn't have anything to prove to her so he keeps eating and drinking.

Another soldier - a big burly man with a beard - joins them - Cooper, Nick reads as he checks his tag. "Ready, Galvez?"

Galvez nods. "Just wish that asshole wasn't in charge."

"Oh, come on, he's not _that_ bad."

Galvez scowls. "He almost let me die!"

Copper takes an aggressive step towards her. "He _didn't."_

"I _know_ what I saw, Coop!" She exclaims. 

Nick tilts his head curiously as he watches them glare at each other. He wonders what he’s missing. 

Cooper gives first. He scoffs and looks away briefly before he says, "Even _if_ you saw something, how many times has he saved your ass since?"

Galvez curses at him in Spanish and storms away.

Cooper huffs. He turns and eyes Nick critically. "You're just a bag of bones."

Nick frowns, but decides to ignore the comment. It's not his fault he's been half-starved for months now while these asshole soldiers have been living like kings. 

Cooper doesn't say anything else, just stands around waiting for orders and keeping a watchful eye on Nick.

After what feels like ages, Troy returns and tells them to load into the helicopter. Galvez sits up front with the pilot, leaving the men to squeeze into the back.  

Nick -  as it turns out - is _terrified_ of flying. Despite the high the oxy gives him, it does little to keep him calm and he white-knuckles Troy's thigh - much to the soldier's chagrin. His fingers get pried off after awhile, but Troy loops their arms together and tells him to aim for Coop if he needed to puke so he didn't mind the change. 

He closes his eyes and hugs Troy's arm to his chest as they hit some turbulence and he hears Troy mutter, "This is gonna be a long fucking flight," but before he can think of letting go the helicopter jerks particularly hard and he clings tighter to the soldier, stomach churning. 

Nick really fucking hates his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning this gonna get updated sporadically and I will likely test your patience and I'm sorry, but know I won't abandon this fic.


End file.
